Ten Years Later
by kryzlin
Summary: Rory is living in New York, working as a journalist. Tristan is also living in New York as a lawyer. Story goes from there. Total Trory.
1. Setting the scene

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, and I do not take credit for any of their histories. Thanks!

All reviews are welcome!

Rory Gilmore sighed as she glanced at the caller i.d. on her cell phone and pushed open the door to Luke's Diner.

"Hey, Mona-look, I told you I couldn't write the story until _after_ the event-…yes, I know that you need a rough draft, but-…wait, you don't-…but, I don't-...i'll give you what I have, but I promise you it's not much…Well, I can't help it!...No, Mona, I do not think I can convince the entire city of New York to move the mayors inauguration ball up a week, just so you can have a rough draft!...Because it doesn't work like that!...Ok, thank you! I'll have it on your desk when I get back tomorrow…I'm in Stars Hollow…yes I did…yes, I did…I told you Monday that I was going home for a few days and I'd be back on Friday….remember the seminar? The one you signed me up for? …yes, I-…Ok, Mona-…I'll see you tomorrow-…ok…ok…Mona! Bye!"

Rory Gilmore slammed her phone down on the counter and put her head on the counter, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

Luke Danes glanced up from his order pad and sent Rory a sympathetic look.

"Rough day?"

"The worst," she answered, not rising from the counter. "First, my car wouldn't start, and I called Gypsy, and she's sick and not working today, so I have to take the bus all the way to Hartford just to sit for two hours listening to some 60 year old guy with the world's _worst_ comb-over, I mean, he was putting Donald Trump to shame, drone on and on about the proper size of column inches and gutters, just so my psychotic boss would 'feel more secure in my writing abilities.' So, after another hour-long bus ride back to Stars Hollow, my psychotic boss calls me, not remembering that I was coming home for the world's most pointless seminar-the one she made me attend, mind you. The resulting phone call was what you unfortunately witnessed. So, in a nutshell, my car sucks, the bus sucks, seminars suck, my boss sucks, and I haven't eaten or had coffee since seven this morning which sucks and its only two o' clock…..ok I'm done."

"So, coffee and a cheeseburger. Fries?"

"Yes please, and make it a double cheeseburger. Oh! And no lettuce this time, Luke!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Luke denied, conveniently not making eye contact with Rory.

"You really think, I didn't notice the entire head of lettuce on my burger? Luke, Luke, Luke, your lettuce sneaking skills are sadly slacking."

"Well, at least I can tell your mother I tried."

"I honestly think Mom would divorce you if she knew what you did…or tried to do."

"Well, if you don't mind, keep it down. Your mom's coming in the door, and I really don't have the money for a divorce right now. Besides I hate lawyers."

"As do we all," Lorelai agreed, sitting next to Rory at the counter. "What are we talking about?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Luke answered.

"Oh, nothing…uh huh. So, Rory, what are we talking about?" Lorelai asked, swinging around to face Rory.

"Why don't you believe me?" Luke asked sounding offended.

"Because I know you, honey. It's nothing personal. So what were we talking about?"

"Luke put lettuce on my burger yesterday," Rory said, looking teasingly at Luke.

Lorelai gasped, "Fiend! How could you? Why would you?"

"Because Rory's young and she still has a chance," Luke answered, turning to Rory. "Rory, you're young-you do not want to grow up like your mother."

"Um Luke," Lorelai interrupted. "Rory's twenty-six. I think she's pretty grown-up already."

"Yeah, Luke, I even upgraded from Velcro to laces last week when I learned how to tie my shoes," Rory teasingly chimed in.

"You know what I meant," Luke said defensively. "I'm gonna go get your burger going."

"And no lettuce! I'm watching you mister! I don't want you poisoning my kid!" Lorelai

"Your kid?" Rory asked skeptically. "I thought I was grown-up."

"Well, you do have all that Hello Kitty paraphernalia."

"Um, no Mom. That's you."

"….Oh right!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Dugrey?"

Tristan Dugrey leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he answered his secretary.

"Yes, Sharon?"

"Your father is on the phone. Would you like me to put him through, or should I take a message?"

"A message will be fine, and let him know that I will call him when I get a moment."

"Yes sir."

Tristan turned his attention back to his computer and finished typing a business letter to a client. One of the most prominent lawyers in the city of New York, Tristan spent the majority of his time in the office, writing e-mails, taking calls, and securing new clients. He figured that he hadn't spent almost ten extra years in school for nothing, and Tristan made the most of his career. Borderline workaholic, his life revolved around making his clients happy.

After hitting the 'send' button on his e-mail, Tristan swiveled around in his chair to look out the floor to ceiling windows in his office. It was a beautiful day outside, and he was dying for a breath of fresh air. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon, but Tristan felt as if he'd been stuck in the office for months. Deciding that he deserved a good long lunch break, he got out of his chair and grabbed his coat off of the hook by the door. After telling Sharon of his plans and asking her to let all of his calls go to voice mail, Tristan stepped out of the office and into New York City.

There was no place more perfect in the world to Tristan. After spending the first sixteen years of his life in Hartford, Tristan felt that New York was refreshing. No one knew him there. No one cared about the 'Hartford Dugreys' and their last Christmas party. No one worried about making connections with him in the city. That's what always drove him crazy in high school. All anybody cared about was that he was a Dugrey. No one cared that he, Tristan, loved football or liked to listen to music in the shower. Granted no one in New York cared about that either. But nobody gave a second thought to the fact that he was a Dugrey.

Everybody in the city kept their distance. And that was just fine to Tristan. He could deal with distance. He could care less about what people thought of him. He could spend the rest of his life without meeting another person in New York City and be perfectly content.

At least, that's what he told himself.


	2. The Collision

A.N. Hey Guys! Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry it took me so long to get another chapter up but my computer was being ridiculous. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Mona Sikes finished skimming the article in her hands before turning to the young lady before her.

"Very good, Rory. It's very well written. There are some holes here and there but surely you can clear that up."

"The second I get home from the Inauguration Ball next week, I promise, the holes will be filled. I've got my shovel and a pile of dirt ready and waiting."

"Good, good. I think covering an event this large is just the thing that could get you promoted."

Rory's heart stopped beating for a second. For the past five years she had been working her tail end off at the NYC Gazette, taking every scoop and lead that came her way. Keeping her fingers crossed, she prayed that all of her hard work was finally about to pay off.

"Promoted? Really?"

"Yes, I'm sure you would make a wonderful editor. And we've also been known to write very influential reference letters if you feel your work is calling you elsewhere. I personally would not advise this; mostly, because I'm selfish and want to keep you here. But we've had journalists who have gone on to write for the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal. We've even produced foreign correspondents and sent people on to work in the White House."

On the inside Rory was jumping up and down. This was the chance that she had been waiting for since…well since forever. She could take a job as a foreign correspondent and see the world the way she'd always wanted to. She would get to look past the landmarks and monuments that always came with touring another country. She would be able to get up close and personal with the real issues that were affecting people in other countries. And, possibly she could inspire people to take notice of the world around them.

"Mona, I'm very flattered. I would love-," Rory started to say before she was cut off.

"But of course if this piece flops, and there's always a 50 chance of that happening with any article, well, then, let's just say you might stay exactly where you are for quite some time. Not that that's a bad thing, of course. You are very valuable to our staff. You know that. And besides, traveling for the New York Times isn't for everybody. We've had people working here for over 25 years now, and they all love it!"

Rory felt herself go paler as she thought of 25 years in that tiny cubicle, with Marge, the lady with the twelve canaries and a scrapbook with pictures of every single one of them, on one side of her and Joe, the slightly neurotic man who carried a water gun on him at all times in case of an emergency, on the other side. Apparently 25 years of covering crimes had taken its toll on Joe, who was constantly imagining that celebrities were out to kill him. Last week, he swore that Danny DeVito was hiding behind the water cooler, ready to pounce on him whenever he needed hydration. Thinking about this, Rory strongly felt that she would rather fling herself off of the top of the news building, then spend another 20 years listening to "Now, Sugar likes to eat all of the birdseed, leaving none for Barney or Buster. So, I finally had to put her in her own cage, and…."

'No way am I dealing with that,' thought Rory as Mona finished speaking.

"Now, go on. Get back to work. Oh, and dear, if you see Harold on your way out, would you please tell him that I would like to see him? Oh, and if you got a chance, could you possibly refill the coffee pot? I know it's not your job, but no one else in the office can make a decent cup of coffee. Thank you darling."

Rory, still nauseous over the idea of spending the next 25 years of her life at the Gazette, nodded and left the office somewhat blindly while muttering to herself.

"Twenty-five years? I have the chance to become a great reporter but there's a 50 chance that it won't happen and I won't get to live my dream but it won't matter because I'm valuable and I can spend the next 25 years here?! At least I'd always be here to make the coffee! I would always be here to convince Joe that _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ was just a movie and Angelina Jolie is not out to get him! I could send Harold to Mona's office everyday for 25 years! I would always be available to run and get everybody's lunches! Forget being a reporter! I'll just become a professional lackey!" Rory muttered to herself on the way down the hall.

Rory loved her job; she couldn't imagine doing any other kind of work. But sometimes it felt like she was a reporter half the time and an intern the other half. The story on the mayor's ball was the first major assignment Rory had been given in months. She knew what she had to do, and that was put everything she had into the piece so she might have a chance at finally making her way as a journalist.

* * *

Tristan was relieved when the clock on his computer screen showed that it was five o' clock, signaling that it was time for him to leave the office. Even though he enjoyed his work, it seemed to Tristan that, lately, every day was getting more and more stressful. He felt as if he desperately needed a vacation, but at the same time, he knew that he would spend the entire time thinking and worrying about work. It was better if he just stayed in the office and got everything done, instead of letting everything pile up over a worthless week of worrying. 

As Tristan reached for his coat, Sharon poked her head in the office.

"I'm sorry Mr. Dugrey. I know you're getting ready to leave, but Mr. Powers is on the phone and he insists on speaking with you. I told him that you were done for the day, but he says that it's an emergency."

Tristan sighed, as he hung his coat back up. Kent Powers was one of the most worrisome and annoying men he'd ever met. Everything was an emergency to him. He had called just last week to let Tristan know that he had gained two pounds but not to worry about raising his insurance rates, because he was going to lose the extra weight within the week. When Tristan asked why two extra pounds would affect his insurance rates, Mr. Powers replied very obviously:

"Because, I am at greater risk of a heart attack."

Tristan could hear the insinuated 'duh.'

"Of course, Mr. Powers, how thoughtless of me. Well, should anything serious happen, God forbid, of course, just let me know and we can deal with the legal matters at that time."

"Yes, yes, of course, I just wanted you to be aware of the situation."

The thought of another 'emergency' was definitely less than appealing to Tristan. However, he knew that if he didn't respond to Mr. Powers' call, he would absolutely have to deal with it tomorrow. Tristan figured it was just easier to get the phone call out of the way.

"It's okay Sharon. Put him through. But just let any other calls go to my voice mail. I'll make sure to deal with them tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

Tristan reached for the phone as Sharon quietly left his office. He took a deep breath, raised his eyes to the ceiling as a sort of prayer, and pushed the flashing button on his phone.

"Mr. Powers, its Tristan. I was told this was urgent."

"Ah, yes Tristan, you see I was going over my will…"

Twenty minutes later, Tristan stepped out of his office and headed down the street towards the local coffee shop. Although he wasn't usually one for coffee, Tristan felt as if he could use a serious pick-me-up before heading back to his apartment. Apparently, dealing with Mr. Powers after hours took double the energy needed for a phone call during working hours. Also, seeing as how the temperature had dropped to 42 degrees (or so the thermometer on the flashing AmSouth Bank sign said), a hot coffee was very much needed.

* * *

"Promoted? Really?! Are you sure she didn't say _demoted_ because that would be totally different." 

"No, Mom. I'm sure she said promoted. She also said that she would be able to write references letters if I wanted to go somewhere else. But she said that this piece pretty much has to rock."

"Well, what do you have to do in order to make it rock?"

"Put every waking second I have into it. I have to have every tiny, little, minute detail about this ball on paper. That means calling people, interviewing people, and bugging people until they feel like it's the middle of summer in a mosquito infested swamp. This town is going to be so sick of me when I get done with this piece, but I don't even care. I need this to work so much, and I don't care if people hate me!"

"Aw, that's my little sociopath. Mommy raised you right."

"I believe she did a commendable job. Anyway, I'm going to hang up now before I get any crazier."

"No! Don't hang up! We aren't going to get to talk for years apparently, since you're going to be putting every waking second of your life into the story."

"But I'm about to go get coffee, and I'll have to order, and then I'll have to carry my cup and balance my phone and my work bag all at the same time and then I'll spill my coffee, ruin my bag, and drop the phone and, with my luck and gracefulness, it'll land in someone else's coffee and it will be bad."

"…What are you doing that close to someone else's coffee?"

"I tripped while trying to balance everything and had to catch myself on their table."

"Oh, gotcha! Well go enjoy your coffee, but don't go falling onto other people's tables. Some people might not get a kick out of it like we would. Oh, and make sure you don't let this piece take over your life. Be sure to relax at least a little."

"I will, Mom. Bye"

Rory shut her phone and put it in her bag as she walked into the coffee shop. Inhaling the fresh smell of ground coffee beans, she walked up to the counter and placed her order. She set her bag on a stool and started pulling all sorts of papers out of her bag, looking for a page of notes on the new mayor's platform. Finding the page she needed, she quickly stuffed everything back into her bag. She finished just as the worker at the counter handed her the coffee.

As she grabbed the cup, she gripped the sides extra hard in order to not spill it. Of course, this plan backfired as she proceeded to make the cup overflow. She grabbed a few napkins from the pile at the counter and tried to clean up the side of her cup as she turned around, not paying attention to the person standing behind her. She ran straight into the stranger and jumped back, surprised that somebody was standing that close to her. He put an arm out to steady her, making her jump even more. This resulted in a much spilt coffee, all over Rory's notes and down the front of her blouse.

"Oh no!" Rory cried as she hurriedly tried to mop up the front of her shirt.

"I am so sorry, ma'am! Are you okay?" The gentleman asked as he grabbed some more napkins from the counter.

"Oh, I'm fine. It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." Rory answered, still not looking up from the mess. "But, at least my phone isn't in your coffee."

"Well, yes, I can see where that would definitely be a good thing." The man answered a bit puzzled and amused at the same time. "Can I buy you another-"

Tristan stopped speaking as he got a good look at the woman in front of him. Completely shocked, he managed to speak.

"Rory Gilmore?"

"Yes?" Rory said finally looking up from her top, realizing that a seemingly complete stranger knew her name. She looked at him, trying to place his face. All of a sudden, it came to her.

"Oh my god," she said as the wad of wet napkins she was holding fell to the floor.


	3. Catching Up

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated! All comments are welcomed! Enjoy!

"Oh my god," she said as the wad of wet napkins she was holding fell to the floor.

"I guess it's nice to know that I still have that effect on women," Tristan replied jokingly, not quite sure what else to say to Rory's reaction.

"Tristan? Tristan Dugrey?" Rory asked, still recovering from the shock of literally running into someone she never thought she would see again.

"I'm afraid so."

"Wow-um-How-well-what are you doing in New York?"

Tristan smiled as Rory stumbled over her words as she tried to decide what to say. "I live here. I work just a couple of blocks away, actually. What about you? What are you doing in New York of all places? Finally becoming Christiane Amanpour?"

"Hardly. I live here too. I write for the NYC Gazette."

"Really? That's –"

"Excuse me. You two are blocking the line," interrupted an older man standing behind Tristan and Rory. Tristan glanced behind the man and saw at least three other people glaring at the two of them.

"Oh, I'm very sorry sir," Tristan apologized as he put his hand on Rory's back and guided her to a table.

"Would you like to sit and talk for a few minutes?" Tristan asked eager to catch up with his high school crush.

"Um, sure I guess," Rory answered, wanting to talk, but still thinking about the story she needed to write.

"If you don't want to, it's fine. I'm sure you have other things you need to do," Tristan said, taking note of her hesitant response.

"No, it's fine. Really. Let's talk." Rory sat down in the chair closest to her and pointedly sat her bag down on the floor, as if emphasizing the fact that she really wanted to talk.

"Ok. Let's talk. Oh, but first let me get you that new coffee."

"Oh, no you don't have to do that!" Rory said. However it was too late; Tristan was already up at the counter ordering her another drink. The man behind the counter was (of course) inhumanly slow, giving Rory plenty of time to process what had just happened.

Tristan Dugrey was probably right on top of her "Top 50 People I Thought I'd Never See Again" list. And, for the longest time he was definitely number one on her "Top 50 People I Would Be Perfectly Fine With Never Seeing Again" list. But, Tristan had changed. There was absolutely no mistaking that. He held him self differently; he wasn't as cocky as he was in high school. And, he looked even better than he did in high school, if that was possible. She might have loathed him ten years ago, but she would never have denied his good looks. Rory wondered how much he had really changed if she could already tell a difference after only a couple of minutes.

Tristan made his way back to the table and handed her the coffee. He then sat in his chair and tried to think of something witty and charming to say to her. Of course, no words would come and the two of them sat at the table stupidly trying to make the situation not seem as awkward as it really was.

After a minute passed, Rory finally spoke.

"So you said you were living in New York? What do you do?"

"I run my own law firm."

"Really?!"

"Yes, really."

"Huh." Rory said, more as a thought to her self, than as a question.

"What?" Tristan asked.

"Oh, well to be honest, I always figured you would end up either A-in jail, or B-back in Hartford working for your dad."

"To be honest right back, for the longest time, so did I." Tristan paused as he thought about where she had expected him to be, and how far he truly was from that life. It didn't seem like she had ever thought highly of him, although he probably could have guessed that. And, he had to admit, he couldn't blame her.

"Sounds like you're doing pretty well for yourself. I'm impressed."

"Thanks. You know, it sounds cliché, but getting sent to military school was probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. It was the slap in the face that I desperately needed. I would never have made it to where I am, if I had stayed in Hartford."

"Well, in that case, I'm very glad you were caught pilfering money from someone else's safe." Judging by the way he spoke, Rory could tell that he really was sorry for what he had done. He had obviously turned his life around in a very positive way.

Tristan laughed at Rory's outlook. "Strangely enough I have to say I agree with you. Anyway, what about you? How did you make it to New York?"

"Well, after graduation-"

"At which you were the valedictorian, I heard."

"Yeah I was. How did you know that?"

"My mother. If she wasn't able to gossip, I don't know how she would get through the day. Anyway, go on."

"Well, um, after high school I went to Yale, joined the paper there, met a boy, stole a yacht, got arrested, dropped out of school, argued with my mother, moved out of my mother's house, moved into my grandparents' pool house, argued with my grandparent's, made up with my mother, moved out of my grandparents' pool house, and enrolled back in school, where I rejoined the paper staff and eventually became the editor. I finally graduated, and decided to try to make my way as a reporter in New York."

Tristan looked at her in disbelief. "…I don't believe it."

"It's true, I'm afraid."

"…But Yale? Not Harvard?" Tristan questioned teasingly.

"I know-shocker, right?"

"I'm floored. And, what about the rest of your story? Who would've thought that innocent little Rory Gilmore from Chilton, would become such a rebel? Not I."

"Oh, yes. I'm a regular James Dean. It was an experience though, to say the least."

"It's kind of funny if you think about it."

"What? My criminal record?"

"Well, the fact that you have one, and I don't." Tristan said, looking amused, but not at all arrogant. "You've definitely changed, to say the least."

"We both have. We've already held a conversation for longer than five minutes, and there is not a single death plan in the works for you at all." 'Quite the opposite, actually' Rory thought to herself.

"That doesn't mean I've changed. It just means you're finally falling for my charm. You just always ignored it in high school." Tristan countered.

"Ah, there's the déjà vu! I knew it was coming eventually!"

Tristan laughed and then asked, "So Rory, you said there was a boy. What happened to him; if you don't mind me asking?"

"We were together for almost four years. It was great at first but after a while we just stopped wanting the same things. He became very work-oriented. He moved to London and that was hard on us. I decided that I wanted to focus on my career too so we just stopped seeing each other. But that was a couple of years ago. What about you though? You haven't mentioned a young woman. I mean I'm still in shock that you don't have one hanging on your arm right now."

Tristan laughed. "Work hasn't left very much time for dating. Right now I'm just trying to get through each day without going insane."

"I completely understand. My mom keeps telling me to relax and to take some time for me, but I don't know how she expects me to do that between deadlines."

"I know exactly how that goes. My mother has tried to set me up with a couple of girls over the past few years, but I never even managed to make it through the first date without thinking or worrying about work. Of course, none of the girls my mother set me up with were what you would call the most scintillating conversationalists, so granted, my mind wandering is somewhat acceptable."

Rory laughed as she checked her watch. "Well, I hate to say it, but I should probably head out. I've got some work I've got to get started on," She said as she stood up from the table and reached down for her bag.

Tristan stood up with her. "It was great to see you again.

"Yeah. You too." Rory said a tad hopefully, as she headed for the door. Tristan opened it for her and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Take care of yourself, Mary."

Walking down the sidewalk Rory was in the middle of a mental war. She had been sure that Tristan was going to ask her out! Of course, he had said that he didn't have much time for dating. But still! He had always liked her in high school; at least that's what Paris always said. So, he should have asked her out. But, maybe, just maybe, he was waiting to see how she had reacted to him. Maybe she should have asked him out! Yes, that's exactly what she should have done!

With this decision made, Rory stopped in mid-step and took a deep breath. She turned around determinedly and ran straight into someone who was standing very close to her.

"Okay, we are definitely going to have to work on that," Tristan said as he put out his arm to steady Rory.

"Well, you should've kept your distance," Rory said nervously, all of the courage she had felt two seconds ago no longer present. "Why were you standing so close to me anyway?"

"Well, I was trying to catch up to you, but you stopped so suddenly that I nearly ran over you. I was trying to steady myself when you turned around."

"Oh…Why were you trying to catch up to me?" Rory asked as flirtatiously as possible.

"You left your papers on the table."

"Oh." Rory said stupidly, feeling herself blush to her ears. "Thank you… Okay, bye." Rory began to turn around, completely humiliated.

"And I was hoping you might be free tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"_Just say yes!" _the voices in her head screamed.

"Yes, I'm free tomorrow night." Rory said as all thoughts of her impending deadline left her.

"Good! I was hoping I might be able to take you to dinner. You know, so we can catch up some more. Since, we didn't get a lot of time to talk today."

"Dinner sounds wonderful." Rory answered as the butterflies in her stomach began their own three ring circus.

"Great! So, How about I pick you up at your apartment at 7?"

"That sounds good. Let me give you directions to my building and my number." Rory began to dig in her bag for a pen, trying to not shake. '_Why are you so nervous Gilmore?'_

"Don't worry about it," Tristan said with a smile.

"But how are you going to know where to pick me up?" Rory asked, a bit confusedly.

"I've got my ways. So, I'll see you tomorrow at seven?"

"Yeah, I guess you will."

"Till then, Mary."


	4. A Sunny Surprise

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, and sorry that it's so short! Enjoy and comment please!

"Ok, so guess what happened yesterday after I got off the phone with you; you won't believe it-I can hardly believe it!"

"You bumped into Bono at one of those cute little hot dog stands and you spilt mustard all over his shirt and while you were helping him clean it up, you guys got to talking and forged an amazing music/hot dog stand bond and he invited you to go on his next tour with him and you said yes!"

"Same story line, only it was Billy Joel, not Bono."

"Then please tell me you said no!"

"Of course."

"Good girl. I told you that someday all those "Bono equals God, Billy Joel-not so much" talks would pay off. So what's the real news?"

"Okay, so I went to grab a coffee after work and guess who I ran into."

"Who?!"

"Tristan Dugrey."

"Tristan Dugrey? Janlan Dugrey's grandson?"

"…How do you know who Janlan Dugrey and his grandson are?"

"Hey-I know my way around the Hartford Country Club."

"Yes, he's Janlan Dugrey's grandson. And he happens to be taking your daughter out for dinner tonight. At least I hope."

"What do you mean 'hope'? Shouldn't you know for sure?"

"Yesterday I tried to give him my address and phone number and he wouldn't take it. I asked him how he would know where to pick me up and he said 'he had his ways'; whatever that means."

"It means he has connections. Like 'family'. If you catch my drift."

"Tristan is not in the Mafia, Mom."

"I'm just saying; some random guy from your past wants to take you out tomorrow and 'he has his ways'? I bet he was wearing a suit, wasn't he? Mafia men always wear suits."

"So do lawyers."

"He's a lawyer? Aw, honey, you'd be better off with the Mafia man. So how exactly is he going to find out where you live?" Lorelai asked her daughter.

"You know-I'm honestly not sure. I mean, I guess he could look me up in the phone book, but the way he said "I've got my ways" implied so much more than flipping through the white pages."

"Well, he may surprise you. Mafia men tend to be very unpredictable. Oh, speaking of which, have you had any good Italian food lately?"

"Random. And, not lately. Why?"

"Oh, uh, Sookie! Yeah, she was just wondering so next time you were in town she'd have a few dinner ideas."

"Oh! Well, nope. No good Italian food lately. Although I did heat up a can of Spaghettio's the other night, if that counts."

"I honestly believe that Sookie would disown you if she knew that you had eaten Spaghettio's."

"Probably, so let's keep that between you and me. Anyway, I'm at work now so I've got to go."

"Ok, love. Call me later and tell me how your 'hopefully' date went!"

"Will do…hopefully!"

Rory slipped her phone back into her purse as she turned down the hallway to her office. As she reached her door, the sight she was met with stopped her dead in her tracks. Large bouquets of sunflowers filled every available space in her office: on top of her desk, on her bookcase, on the floor, on the windowsill, everywhere. To top off the scene, Mona sat in Rory's chair, sporting a very perturbed expression. As Rory stepped into the room, Mona stood.

"Explain. Now. I want to know why five delivery men spent an hour this morning unloading this allergen infested greenhouse while disrupting the entire staff! Explainations now!"

Rory managed to gather her senses enough to answer her boss. "Mona, I promise, I have no idea what this is. Is there a card or at least a bill, so I know where they came from?"

"In the bouquet by your stapler. I just want you to know that I am not happy about this. Not happy at all."

Rory ignored Mona's complaints and made her way over to her desk, careful not to step on any flowers. She found the bouquet and the card that went with it. It read: _Mary, just wanted to let you know how excited I am about tonight. I was told that sunflowers are your favorite. Enjoy. T.D._

Mona continued to grumble about the inconvenience that the delivery had caused, but Rory didn't take in a word of it. Instead she reached for the phone and dialed Information.

"Yes, I need a listing for a Tristan Dugrey. Maybe under Dugrey Law Services, or Tristan Dugrey, Attorney at Law? I'm sorry I'm not sure of the name of his-" Rory was interrupted before she could finish her thought.

"Please hold-connecting to Tristan Dugrey, Legal Representative."

"Oh! Thank you very-"

"Hello?"

"Hello? Is this Mr. Dugrey?"

"Yes. May I help you?"

"Perhaps. You see, I recently received a terribly embarrassing display of the most beautiful sunflowers I have ever seen, and I would like to know the proper steps that I should take to either thank or sue the person who sent them to me. Seeing as you're the lawyer, I guess I'll let you choose which course of action I should take."

"Well legal battles can be pretty messy and prolonged. Why don't you go with option number one?"

"In that case, thank you!"

"You are more than welcome and worth it."

"How did you know that sunflowers were my favorite?"

"Oh, you know, I have my ways." Tristan smiled as he imagined Rory's confusion at his statement.

"See you at seven, Mary."


End file.
